"Sons, daughters of Karia, ye knowe me. The name's Grim, of the Fiochmahr clan. Ye know them Cheldrun bastards, too. Goshi, they be called." He stood before the leaders of the clans, proud and tall, his heavily muscled frame yet marked with the signs of the last fortnight's festivities, and Ishikawa Tetsuro stood at his side, looking for all the world as though his tattered clothing were a kimono of the finest silk.
They stood before him, Gogajin all, listening as he spoke, forty five clan heads, male and female alike. The massive camps of all forty six of the clans gathered here stretched out as far as the eye could see around this large, central, rock-strewn meadow. Or at least it had been a meadow twelve days ago, when the games had begun. Now it resembled more closely a war zone. Around the clan heads, a larger crowd had gathered. The clan heads were all stood in a a large stone amphitheatre at the edge of the meadow - a traditional meeting place, and neutral ground - that carried their voices rolling across the crowd.
"Aye, we know them. Get on with it!" Shouted a middle-aged Gogajin from the middle of the group of clan heads.
"I've spoken with ye yche one, and there no nas never any one of us what's not been struck by them at least once since the new year began, and struck a sore blow. Well I say we've had enough! I say it's about time we stopped letting these Goshi types, these Heishi, raid us whenever the fuck they want!"
--------------
Ishikawa Tomoe of the Ruby Hawk clan stared at the ... man... in front of her in disbelief. Had this... this... donkey-man actually just propositioned her? HER? As if being dragged away from school in Matamos and into the wilderness wasn't bad enough, now there were overgrown donkeymen asking if she wanted to do... THAT, with them? It was an outrage! She wouldn't stand for it! She was going to tell her father about this, and then they'd see what happened to this presumptuous...
"If you fucked him, do you think that would count as bestiality for you, for him, or both?" Midnight asked.
The Gogajin burst into belly-laughs, and one of them clapped Midnight on the shoulder good naturedly, and the biomade girl staggered, but managed to recover quickly enough, and shot the Gogajin a cheeky grin.
Tomoe tried not to grind her teeth. "Remind me why you came with us again?" Tomoe asked. "It's not like you were in danger from Katashi Blade's purge. He's one of your kind."
When her father had said that he and his Gogajin ally were going to rally the clans, Tomoe had not expected this... carnival. They'd been at it for three days now, engaging in competitions so savage that she could scarcely believe that none of the participants had died. Certainly she'd never seen anything quite like their game of 'catch,' and the boasts? She knew what that was. That was a bunch of little boys trying to prove their virility. ... and she still didn't know what to make of the women who participated, and just as freely as the men.
The Gogajin... confused her.
Midnight raised an eyebrow and turned to face Tomoe, her long, dark hair catching in the wind as she did so, a look of surprise on her face. "... Are you serious?" she asked.
Tomoe blinked. What does she mean, am I serious? Doe she think I'm... oh. Oh. No, that couldn't possibly be the reason. "... Yes?"
Midnight smiled a pained sort of smile, and Tomoe's surprise grew to ever greater heights as the Biomade gave her reply: "Because you do what you can for your friends, yeah?"
... Friends?
Tomoe stared. In all their years at the Academy in Matamos, she had never, not once, thought of Midnight as her friend. She'd thought of her as a rival, as an enemy, as a classmate, but ... friends? She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Friends.
For the first time in her life, Ishikawa Tomoe of the Ruby Hawk clan was at a loss for words.
------------
"An' how do you plan to stop them, Grim? We already tried punchin' em in the face, and throwin' big rocks at 'em, and pushing 'em off cliffs, and punchin' em in the stomach and THEN punchin' em in the face..."
Some of the clan heads surrounding Orla of the Troid clan had the decency to look embarrassed. She'd got where she was by being young, charismatic, strong and tough, but had never been the brightest bulb in the bunch.
"Much as I hate to agree with Orla," said Keena of the Muintir clan, an old Gogajin well known for her wisdom, "She does have a point, if you turn her words inside out, stand them on their head, and look at 'em through a mirror. How exactly do you plan to stop a force that can appear and disappear whenever it wants?"
Grim clapped Ishikawa Tetsuro on the shoulder, and the Allskin staggered beneath the blow. "Old Tetsuro here tells me there's a place where these smoke-puff soldiers can't get to. A place where people are holdin' out against Goshi, mounting some real fightin' against them. He says that Goshi's mounting an army to take the place, and they'll probably do it, too, since they control all the other Cheldrun cities. An' he says that once we're on the move, it'll be harder for them to find us. Cheldrun folk don't do so well in the wilds. That's me plan, though. I say we march on over to this city, this Stardown, and we show those Goshi bastards what for!"
A murmur went through the crowd, then, and then Keena spoke up again. "Why should we march to defend a Cheldrun city, Grim? It's got nothing to do with us. Troubles come and go, but we endure, and the land endures. This is ours, isn't it? All this? Look around you. This is Gogajin land. Why should we up and march off to some Cheldrun place?"
----------------
Inari blinked. "You've got eyes!" He'd been trying to shake this zipsum for days, figuring that it was probably better to avoid the little bastards ever since he'd had to flee from a whole tribe full of eyeless turbo-squirrels.
"Uh, yeah," the Zipsum said, brushing the dust off his clothing as he strolled up to the young Prill. "You run into a lot of Zipsum without eyes?"
"Yes. Well, no. Well, I did once, and you can never be too careful. I think it's very important to have eyes, after all, and I don't think much of the idea of losing mine." He brightened. "But you've got eyes, so it's ok! I'm Inari."
The Zipsum raised an eyebrow at that. "Inari, huh? That sounds familiar..."
"I was named after a legendary Kyo-TeeShee," Inari offered. He thought about it. "Either that or a really big tree. I never asked."
The Zipsum wasn't really sure how to take that. "Uh, right. So Inari, you from around here?"
The woods were sparse here, and a bit further east the land began to rise into the rocky highlands of Gogajin territory.
Inari kept walking, and the Zipsum followed along behind him as they talked. "Me?" Inari asked. "No. No, just passing through. I'm on a quest. Supposed to gather up pieces of the lost music for Elder Winter." He never had managed to make it back to the Grand Chantry. Too many eyeless Zipsum. He'd been traveling ever since, and he'd seen things since then that had made him wonder what exactly was going on in the world.
"Lost music, huh? How's that workin' out for you?" The Zipsum didn't give him time to answer, but immediately went on. "Listen, Inari, I don't mean to sound rude, but have you seen a bunch of Gogajin running around with Cheldrun prisoners?"
Inari looked perplexed. "Gogajin with Cheldrun prisoners? Well... yes. But I don't think they were prisoners. Looked more like refugees, I think. They didn't seem too unhappy about being with the Gogajin, either."
The Zipsum brightened up at that considerably. "You've seen them? Really? You're the man, Inari. You are so the man. The man? That's you."
It occurred to Inari then that the zipsum's pupils were abnormally large, and his eyes bloodshot. What could that mean? Huh. "Uh, thanks?"
"No, thank you. Now, can you show me where you saw them? It's really important, Inari. I need to find them. I'm supposed to keep an eye on them and make sure they don't get into trouble."
"I guess I could show you," Inari said, now fairly certain that something was wrong. The Zipsum seemed too hyper, even for a Zipsum. He hadn't stopped fidgeting since he'd walked up, and his eyes were more intense than they should be, the pupils absolutely, fully dilated. "What did you say your name was?"
The Zipsum grinned good naturedly. "Tricks. Tricks the Wind. Nice to meet you."
-----------------
"Look around, Keena. What's happening is more than just troubles. There's a change in the air, and not one for the better. Ye kenne hit too, I wist. Ye've heard from the Griolsa clan, heard what's happened. Ben Hamor's been visited by the gods! There's eyeless demons takin' over zipsum bodies, and Cheldrun bodies too, and I'm not so blind as to miss that Goshi has sent eyeless monsters just as often as they've sent their smoke-puff men, and a Zipsum messenger from the Grand Chantry what arrived the other day said that there's huge demons fightin' heroes of Karia all over the damn place. This isn't something we can run away from, and I'd be no Gogajin if I tried!"
Grim looked out across the crowd, and he raised his voice. "This is bigger than any of us, but it's not so big that we can't do somethin' about it. There's to be a fight, and it's to be at Stardown, and it's lookin' to be the biggest thing we've seen since the night of bonfire skies. Sons, daughters of Karia, we are Gogajin! And if we don't unite, if we don't take a stand against these Goshi bastards, then we might as well just slink away into the hills and wait to die, because we'll none of us deserve to be called Gogajin ever again, and we will never, ever be free of those bastards. Some of us may die, but at least we'll die free, with our own two feet on the ground, and fightin' for each other, and for Karia! Are you with me!"
A roar erupted from the vast crowd of Gogajin all around them at that, a terrible thunderous roar that utterly drowned out whatever response Keena might have tried to make. For a long moment the forty five clan heads stared at one another, uncertain exactly what to do. Then, after a good five minutes of shouting, the crowd began to die down, until finally those in the center could be heard again.
In the end, they had only one response. In the end, there was really nothing else to say: "You're a crazy bastard, Grim," Keena said, and then grinned widely, "But I'm with ye." And then, one after the other, the other clan heads each pledged themselves to the cause, and cacophony erupted in the crowd once more as Gogajin shouted, cheered, banged drums, banged stones, banged each other's heads, and made ready to march to war.
------------------
"That's a nice gun," Inari said as he led Tricks the Wind up the rocky slope towards Gogajin country. He'd picked up a walking stick somewhere along the way. It was just the right size, too. Very quarterstaffy. Idly, Inari wondered if he had just coined a new word.
Tricks grinned. "Thanks. Haven't met many Prill who know what a gun is. You been around the Cheldrun?"
"Some," Inari replied, watching Tricks warily out of the corner of his eye. He no longer had any intention of leading the Zipsum to the Gogajin, but he knew it would be very, very difficult to lose him. Scratch that. Losing a Zipsum that wanted to follow you was damn near impossible. And by 'near,' Inari meant 'completely.' "I found a fragment of a song in one of their cities. Kaberra was the name, I think."
Tricks nodded, and then looked like he was growing impatient. "Look, Inari, are you sure this is the way the Gogajin..."
Tricks trailed off as the roar of a vast, vast, vast crowd erupted from not too far away, and both he and Inari stared as a huge column of Gogajin crested the top of the hill and began marching down it.
More.
More.
More.
One hundred.
Two hundred.
Five hundred.
A thousand.
More.
Inari lost count.
Wagons were pulled by Gogajin in donkey form, laden down with supplies. Men, women, a small contingent of maybe a hundred Cheldrun, more Gogajin, even more Gogajin.
An army.
He stared in awe as they marched, and Tricks stared, too, his jaw dropped open, though for different reasons.
The Gogajin were on the move.
"... went?" Tricks finished.
That was when Inari lifted his quarterstaffy walking stick, and bashed Tricks over the back of the head as hard as he could. The Zipsum went out like a light.
Inari breathed a sigh of relief. He scooped up the furry little body of Tricks the Wind and headed over to figure out who was in charge. Zipsum were a pain in the ass to keep prisoner. He knew that from experience. Hopefully, the Gogajin would have some rope. Lots and lots of rope.
And as it turns out, they did. More than enough for both the suspicious, drug-addled Zipsum and for the troublesome Prill prankster what had been causing trouble with the local villages over the last few weeks. A few minutes later, Inari found himself bound hand and foot in the back of one of the Gogajin wagons, with the unconscious form of Tricks the Wind bound securely a foot away, and the Gogajin army marching towards the western horizon.
"Well," Inari said, "This sucks."
Showing posts with label Allskin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Allskin. Show all posts
Force and Energy
"Ishikawa Tomoe of the Ruby Hawk clan," said the old Biomade teacher, "Do you know why your design merits only a passing grade?"
Tomoe grit her teeth. She was the very image of classical Allskin beauty, and if all she needed to do was look pretty, that might have counted for something. If the histories were to be believed, her clan had once ruled nearly a quarter of a spiral galaxy - or at least those worlds within that quarter that were inhabitable - and commanded the allegiance of vast, powerful fleets of star-faring ships. Her noble heritage counted for little here, nor had the Ruby Hawk clan been considered to be particularly notable since the arrival of the refugee fleet on this world two hundred years previous. Now, she was only another student at the Matamos University of Art and Science.
The classroom was a warm, well-lit place. Willow-Sensei liked it that way. Well, she called him Willow-Sensei, anways, as did Ikari Makoto of the Jade Falcon clan, but the other three students in their Architecture and Design class - two mechified and a Biomade - had taken to calling him Old Man Willow. Tomoe supposed that Deborah and Samuel probably didn't know any better. Mechified were simple creatures, after all. But Midnight was a Biomade. For all their faults, the Biomade were at least civilized beings. She should know better.
"Do you have even a guess?" Old Man Wil... Willow-Sensei asked.
Tomoe let out an irritated puff of air which blew her bangs out of her eyes as she considered the holographic representation of her design. It seemed impressive enough to her. Easily a match for even the finest architecture of Geneva Prime. The carved arches over the entryway were immaculate, designed such that they seemed wrought from the living wood of the old growth trees they resembled rather than from the metal of which they would actually be fashioned. And the building itself, her grand amphitheatre? Breathtaking. Her design was highly stylized, flowing, curvilinear, all the things a Cheldrun building should be. There was nothing wrong with it. "... No."
Willow-Sensei smiled kindly. "I see," he said. He turned to the rest of the class. "Does anyone else care to take a guess at what is wrong with the work of Ishikawa Tomoe of the Ruby Hawk clan?"
There was silence in the classroom, broken only by the hum of the holo-generators affixed to each desk.
Midnight raised her hand, and Tomoe immediately felt a stab of anger. Midnight, to whom everything came so easily. Midnight, who had been engineered for brilliance. Midnight, with perfect hair as dark as her namesake, with that damnable fake Biomade beauty, with her perfectly symmetrical face and eyes precisely calculated such that an interested suitor could drown in them. 'Interested suitor,' that was the right term, Tomoe decided. The stories of Biomade promiscuity were legendary. At least, that's what her mother had always told her, and her grandmother agreed. Once, Tomoe had thought it a terrible thing that the Biomade had engineered themselves to be unable to reproduce, but considering their notorious... appetites, well, maybe it was for the best. If the stories were to believed, Biomade would even copulate with Karians. Karians! It was shocking. Appalling. But modesty, it seemed, was another thing the Biomade had engineered out of themselves, if the time she herself had caught Midnight and Deborah in a... compromising position was anything to judge by. Deborah at least had blushed at the interruption, but not Midnight. ... But Biomade promiscuity was not an appropriate topic of contemplation for a noble scion of House Ruby Hawk. Mother had said that once, though it had never stopped her from gossiping about it for hours on end.
Abruptly, Tomoe realized that Midnight had given her answer, and she quickly searched her memory to find it.
Oh.
Damnable, perfect Biomade. It wasn't fair, her having to work so hard to get as far as she had with miss Midnight learning the same things absolutely effortlessly.
"Is it because she hasn't attended to the aesthetics of the building's force and energy flow?" Midnight had asked.
"Very good, Midnight!" Willow-Sensei replied. "Force and energy. They are the fundamentals of all architecture, and indeed of all art. A well-designed physical structure without aesthetically pleasing methods of channeling force and energy is as worthless as an umbrella in a hurricane. Consider the work of Nakata Soujiro of the Ruby Hawk clan. As you know, Nakata Soujiro was one of the few artists whose work survived the great exodus, and many of his holo-sculptures are still on display in the Museum of Antiquities here in Matamos." Willow-Sensei pressed a button on his display, and each student's design faded and was replaced by a three dimensional representation of an alien planet, its surface alive with vibrant currents of force and energy.
Tomoe stared. Nakata Soujiro was the reason she wanted to be an artist: his work had always stirred her imagination in ways that she could not readily identify. Looking at this, called 'A Distant Star,' perhaps his most well-known work, stole her breath away. The planet shimmered, its energistic patterns pulsing like veins, sometimes seeming to dance across its surface. There, in the corner of the image, beyond the planet's orbit, was the titular star, shining with such grace and such subtlety, the force and the energy of its nuclear fires rendered in such beauty, that a tear trickled down her cheek at the sight of it.
Willow-Sensei continued his lecture, but Tomoe did not hear it. She stared, and for a moment, her fierce envy of Midnight faded away. For a moment, Deborah and Samuel and even Makoto were far from her imagination. For a moment, all of her mother's stories and her own prejudices faded into nothing. For a moment, even if it was only within her own imagination, Ishikawa Tomoe walked among the stars.
Tomoe grit her teeth. She was the very image of classical Allskin beauty, and if all she needed to do was look pretty, that might have counted for something. If the histories were to be believed, her clan had once ruled nearly a quarter of a spiral galaxy - or at least those worlds within that quarter that were inhabitable - and commanded the allegiance of vast, powerful fleets of star-faring ships. Her noble heritage counted for little here, nor had the Ruby Hawk clan been considered to be particularly notable since the arrival of the refugee fleet on this world two hundred years previous. Now, she was only another student at the Matamos University of Art and Science.
The classroom was a warm, well-lit place. Willow-Sensei liked it that way. Well, she called him Willow-Sensei, anways, as did Ikari Makoto of the Jade Falcon clan, but the other three students in their Architecture and Design class - two mechified and a Biomade - had taken to calling him Old Man Willow. Tomoe supposed that Deborah and Samuel probably didn't know any better. Mechified were simple creatures, after all. But Midnight was a Biomade. For all their faults, the Biomade were at least civilized beings. She should know better.
"Do you have even a guess?" Old Man Wil... Willow-Sensei asked.
Tomoe let out an irritated puff of air which blew her bangs out of her eyes as she considered the holographic representation of her design. It seemed impressive enough to her. Easily a match for even the finest architecture of Geneva Prime. The carved arches over the entryway were immaculate, designed such that they seemed wrought from the living wood of the old growth trees they resembled rather than from the metal of which they would actually be fashioned. And the building itself, her grand amphitheatre? Breathtaking. Her design was highly stylized, flowing, curvilinear, all the things a Cheldrun building should be. There was nothing wrong with it. "... No."
Willow-Sensei smiled kindly. "I see," he said. He turned to the rest of the class. "Does anyone else care to take a guess at what is wrong with the work of Ishikawa Tomoe of the Ruby Hawk clan?"
There was silence in the classroom, broken only by the hum of the holo-generators affixed to each desk.
Midnight raised her hand, and Tomoe immediately felt a stab of anger. Midnight, to whom everything came so easily. Midnight, who had been engineered for brilliance. Midnight, with perfect hair as dark as her namesake, with that damnable fake Biomade beauty, with her perfectly symmetrical face and eyes precisely calculated such that an interested suitor could drown in them. 'Interested suitor,' that was the right term, Tomoe decided. The stories of Biomade promiscuity were legendary. At least, that's what her mother had always told her, and her grandmother agreed. Once, Tomoe had thought it a terrible thing that the Biomade had engineered themselves to be unable to reproduce, but considering their notorious... appetites, well, maybe it was for the best. If the stories were to believed, Biomade would even copulate with Karians. Karians! It was shocking. Appalling. But modesty, it seemed, was another thing the Biomade had engineered out of themselves, if the time she herself had caught Midnight and Deborah in a... compromising position was anything to judge by. Deborah at least had blushed at the interruption, but not Midnight. ... But Biomade promiscuity was not an appropriate topic of contemplation for a noble scion of House Ruby Hawk. Mother had said that once, though it had never stopped her from gossiping about it for hours on end.
Abruptly, Tomoe realized that Midnight had given her answer, and she quickly searched her memory to find it.
Oh.
Damnable, perfect Biomade. It wasn't fair, her having to work so hard to get as far as she had with miss Midnight learning the same things absolutely effortlessly.
"Is it because she hasn't attended to the aesthetics of the building's force and energy flow?" Midnight had asked.
"Very good, Midnight!" Willow-Sensei replied. "Force and energy. They are the fundamentals of all architecture, and indeed of all art. A well-designed physical structure without aesthetically pleasing methods of channeling force and energy is as worthless as an umbrella in a hurricane. Consider the work of Nakata Soujiro of the Ruby Hawk clan. As you know, Nakata Soujiro was one of the few artists whose work survived the great exodus, and many of his holo-sculptures are still on display in the Museum of Antiquities here in Matamos." Willow-Sensei pressed a button on his display, and each student's design faded and was replaced by a three dimensional representation of an alien planet, its surface alive with vibrant currents of force and energy.
Tomoe stared. Nakata Soujiro was the reason she wanted to be an artist: his work had always stirred her imagination in ways that she could not readily identify. Looking at this, called 'A Distant Star,' perhaps his most well-known work, stole her breath away. The planet shimmered, its energistic patterns pulsing like veins, sometimes seeming to dance across its surface. There, in the corner of the image, beyond the planet's orbit, was the titular star, shining with such grace and such subtlety, the force and the energy of its nuclear fires rendered in such beauty, that a tear trickled down her cheek at the sight of it.
Willow-Sensei continued his lecture, but Tomoe did not hear it. She stared, and for a moment, her fierce envy of Midnight faded away. For a moment, Deborah and Samuel and even Makoto were far from her imagination. For a moment, all of her mother's stories and her own prejudices faded into nothing. For a moment, even if it was only within her own imagination, Ishikawa Tomoe walked among the stars.
That Which Will Not Bend...
Kiyoshi looked up from the charts he had been studying. Not that they did any good; no charts showed where they were going except as uncharted territory. "I was expecting you sooner."
Aimi flushed angrily. "What, am I your serving girl now to come when the Captain calls? I don't need you to defend me from your friends!"
Kiyoshi shook his head. "That is certainly something I never wish to test. But no, I simply meant that I thought you might have more to say to me, and was surprised you did not do so sooner."
"Why the hell are you doing this? Your friends are right! I am your enemy! I work for your enemy and if he ordered me to I would kill you!"
Kiyoshi stood and strode up to her. Close. He slipped his kimono over his shoulders, baring his chest. "Then do it." He tapped his breast. "Strike, now. You say that you are my enemy, so I must be yours. You strike down your enemies. Or do you prefer the throat?" He lifted his head, exposing his neck to her. "Kill me and be done with it if that is how you feel."
With a snarl Aimi's hand sped toward Kiyoshi's throat and stopped a millimeter from crushing the life from him. Kiyoshi had not twitched in the slightest. She hesitated, then said in a voice barely more than a whisper "Is it true?"
There was only one thing she could be referring to. Moses' message upon his door. "Can you not simply look inside my head to find that answer?"
She shook her head, looking close to tears. "Won't. I want to hear you say it. Or... not."
"What if I told you that I have a fiance? Do you expect me to set that aside for you?"
Her eyes flared and her fists clenched. "What! Who is it?"
"A nice respectable Allskin girl from a family with ties to Goshi. Amuro Namie. You might have heard of her... no matter. Now that my Clan is in disgrace I am sure the betrothal has been dissolved. It is probably for the best anyway. I had only met her three times in my life, as it was our families that set it all up." Kiyoshi directed a raptor's glare at Aimi. "It is none of her fault and I expect that she will live a long and healthy life. Understood?"
Aimi took a half step back and swallowed a lump in her throat before she realized what she was doing. Stopping herself she shook her head. "It's weird. I know I can take you, but sometimes when you look at me like that it scares the hell out of me." She shuddered slightly. "I think I like it." She looked back up at him. "But you said it's over right? So you're free again?"
Kiyoshi shook his head. "It is not that simple. I am twenty seven years old and a fugitive... I will probably never marry. But if I do, it will be to another Allskin. Every generation more Allskins die in duels or through accident or disease. Each generation more of us choose to forsake our heritage, our place in the plan of the First Minds and get genetic or mechafied enhancements, forever removing themselves and their offspring from the Allskin families. Every generation more Allskins fall in love and marry a Biomade or a Mechafied and their children are no longer pure, no longer Allskin. Just as surely as the Vorax, my people have been dying." He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. "Aimi, I know you do not care because you think we are obsolete, but I do. My people are disappearing and I will do my part to fight that in any way I can."
She looked up at him with a wry smile. "You big idiot, is that what you're worried about? I'm not asking to be your wife! I just want to..." Her smile changed to a scowl lightning quick. "Hey, no tricking me into saying things!" This was the mercurial girl he had first met in his office so long ago. Her emotions flitting about just as quickly as the subject...
Kiyoshi sighed. "Look Aimi, I like you for some reason I cannot possibly fathom. But do you really expect me to love you? I do not even know you! And despite what you may think I do not believe you know me either! We are practically strangers, and ones who have been on opposite sides as long as we have known each other. I cannot deny that there is... something... between us, which makes me feel like a dirty old man..." He shook his head. "You confuse me so much it is hard to think sometimes."
"Don't pull the age card on me! I may be younger but I've seen and done things that would make your hair curly." She paused and bit her lip. "If you don't love me then why did Moses write that? Why did you threaten your friends for me?"
Kiyoshi pounded his fist on the wall in frustration. "Damn it, I did not...!" He took a deep breath. "It was not supposed to be me threatening them. It was supposed to be me standing up for you. I know, you want to know why." He looked deep into her large, red eyes. "It is because of the potential I see in you. Your entire life you have been told what to do, bred and trained and forced into doing it. You have done many things that are dishonorable, maybe even evil, but... you have a chance to change that now. You can be free, and you can start making the right choices if you only come to realize that the choice is yours. No one is controlling you anymore unless you let them."
Her lip trembled. "Is that why you didn't tell me you wanted me to stay? Because you didn't want to tell me what to do?"
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "You know something of what we face. We could use your help." He held up a hand to forestall an outburst. "Also, when you are not trying to kill, capture, or sabotage me or my friends I actually enjoy your company. Keep in mind that I have experienced very little of that thus far." That last was said rather wryly. "If... if I forced you either way, to stay or to go, then I would be just as bad as all the others. I would be making your decisions for you, forcing you one way or another... I have to give you the chance to make your own decisions, to live for yourself, to make the right choices for once in your life. My friends don't trust you, and with good reason, because of your earlier crimes. I just put my life in your hands and you made the right decision. I am giving you one more chance to do that again. I am trusting you. Make of that what you will. Just know that I could never love someone who would forsake honor when given the choice."
Aimi stepped up to him, very close. He was so much taller than her she had to peer up. She placed a hand on his bare chest and felt his heartbeat. Fast. Like hers. She was breathing quickly too. The light reflected in his eyes in such a way that they looked completely silver as he gazed down on her. "I can always change my mind and kill you later. For now though... I'm not saying I'm staying or going, and I'm not saying I agree with you. I've always done what I want; no one controls me! But you said you wanted me to be free to make my own choices so I've made one. There is something I've been wanting to try. I don't know if an old man like you will be able to help me with it though. Maybe I should go visit that Raul guy..." She was unable to finish her sentence as Kiyoshi's mouth found hers.
Aimi flushed angrily. "What, am I your serving girl now to come when the Captain calls? I don't need you to defend me from your friends!"
Kiyoshi shook his head. "That is certainly something I never wish to test. But no, I simply meant that I thought you might have more to say to me, and was surprised you did not do so sooner."
"Why the hell are you doing this? Your friends are right! I am your enemy! I work for your enemy and if he ordered me to I would kill you!"
Kiyoshi stood and strode up to her. Close. He slipped his kimono over his shoulders, baring his chest. "Then do it." He tapped his breast. "Strike, now. You say that you are my enemy, so I must be yours. You strike down your enemies. Or do you prefer the throat?" He lifted his head, exposing his neck to her. "Kill me and be done with it if that is how you feel."
With a snarl Aimi's hand sped toward Kiyoshi's throat and stopped a millimeter from crushing the life from him. Kiyoshi had not twitched in the slightest. She hesitated, then said in a voice barely more than a whisper "Is it true?"
There was only one thing she could be referring to. Moses' message upon his door. "Can you not simply look inside my head to find that answer?"
She shook her head, looking close to tears. "Won't. I want to hear you say it. Or... not."
"What if I told you that I have a fiance? Do you expect me to set that aside for you?"
Her eyes flared and her fists clenched. "What! Who is it?"
"A nice respectable Allskin girl from a family with ties to Goshi. Amuro Namie. You might have heard of her... no matter. Now that my Clan is in disgrace I am sure the betrothal has been dissolved. It is probably for the best anyway. I had only met her three times in my life, as it was our families that set it all up." Kiyoshi directed a raptor's glare at Aimi. "It is none of her fault and I expect that she will live a long and healthy life. Understood?"
Aimi took a half step back and swallowed a lump in her throat before she realized what she was doing. Stopping herself she shook her head. "It's weird. I know I can take you, but sometimes when you look at me like that it scares the hell out of me." She shuddered slightly. "I think I like it." She looked back up at him. "But you said it's over right? So you're free again?"
Kiyoshi shook his head. "It is not that simple. I am twenty seven years old and a fugitive... I will probably never marry. But if I do, it will be to another Allskin. Every generation more Allskins die in duels or through accident or disease. Each generation more of us choose to forsake our heritage, our place in the plan of the First Minds and get genetic or mechafied enhancements, forever removing themselves and their offspring from the Allskin families. Every generation more Allskins fall in love and marry a Biomade or a Mechafied and their children are no longer pure, no longer Allskin. Just as surely as the Vorax, my people have been dying." He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. "Aimi, I know you do not care because you think we are obsolete, but I do. My people are disappearing and I will do my part to fight that in any way I can."
She looked up at him with a wry smile. "You big idiot, is that what you're worried about? I'm not asking to be your wife! I just want to..." Her smile changed to a scowl lightning quick. "Hey, no tricking me into saying things!" This was the mercurial girl he had first met in his office so long ago. Her emotions flitting about just as quickly as the subject...
Kiyoshi sighed. "Look Aimi, I like you for some reason I cannot possibly fathom. But do you really expect me to love you? I do not even know you! And despite what you may think I do not believe you know me either! We are practically strangers, and ones who have been on opposite sides as long as we have known each other. I cannot deny that there is... something... between us, which makes me feel like a dirty old man..." He shook his head. "You confuse me so much it is hard to think sometimes."
"Don't pull the age card on me! I may be younger but I've seen and done things that would make your hair curly." She paused and bit her lip. "If you don't love me then why did Moses write that? Why did you threaten your friends for me?"
Kiyoshi pounded his fist on the wall in frustration. "Damn it, I did not...!" He took a deep breath. "It was not supposed to be me threatening them. It was supposed to be me standing up for you. I know, you want to know why." He looked deep into her large, red eyes. "It is because of the potential I see in you. Your entire life you have been told what to do, bred and trained and forced into doing it. You have done many things that are dishonorable, maybe even evil, but... you have a chance to change that now. You can be free, and you can start making the right choices if you only come to realize that the choice is yours. No one is controlling you anymore unless you let them."
Her lip trembled. "Is that why you didn't tell me you wanted me to stay? Because you didn't want to tell me what to do?"
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "You know something of what we face. We could use your help." He held up a hand to forestall an outburst. "Also, when you are not trying to kill, capture, or sabotage me or my friends I actually enjoy your company. Keep in mind that I have experienced very little of that thus far." That last was said rather wryly. "If... if I forced you either way, to stay or to go, then I would be just as bad as all the others. I would be making your decisions for you, forcing you one way or another... I have to give you the chance to make your own decisions, to live for yourself, to make the right choices for once in your life. My friends don't trust you, and with good reason, because of your earlier crimes. I just put my life in your hands and you made the right decision. I am giving you one more chance to do that again. I am trusting you. Make of that what you will. Just know that I could never love someone who would forsake honor when given the choice."
Aimi stepped up to him, very close. He was so much taller than her she had to peer up. She placed a hand on his bare chest and felt his heartbeat. Fast. Like hers. She was breathing quickly too. The light reflected in his eyes in such a way that they looked completely silver as he gazed down on her. "I can always change my mind and kill you later. For now though... I'm not saying I'm staying or going, and I'm not saying I agree with you. I've always done what I want; no one controls me! But you said you wanted me to be free to make my own choices so I've made one. There is something I've been wanting to try. I don't know if an old man like you will be able to help me with it though. Maybe I should go visit that Raul guy..." She was unable to finish her sentence as Kiyoshi's mouth found hers.
Heroes Born and Heroes Made
Matthew had work to do. He had wanted to stay on with the Griolsa and help them finish rebuilding, but Tricks had been eager to get back to the city and he had not liked his chances of getting all the way back to Geneva Prime without the help of a Karian, even one as domesticated as Tricks. So they had left the Gogajin village, though not before the children had tackled him in one last attempt to knock down the "metal giant" and begged him to stay. It was difficult telling them no, mostly because they tried to forcibly keep him from leaving. Surprisingly, the children were not the only ones who seemed sad to see them go. Edana bid them good journey and even Angus hobbled out and shook his hand.
The two made good time and Tricks proved a surprisingly adept guide. His color had changed to a much healthier brown than his old tobacco-stain drab and he seemed more alert and friendly than Matthew had ever known him. He even talked of going to visit his old tribe for a time once they got back! Unfortunately it did not take him long to forget about that and fall back into his old habits almost as soon as they reached Geneva Prime once more. Within a week of their return Tricks, eyes blurred and face slack as he used to be, wandered off mumbling about knowing how to earn more money. That was the last Matthew had seen of him.
Now he was all alone, but that was alright. He had plenty of work to do after all. People had always thought of him as stupid because of his size and the way he liked to think things through. He was not dumb however, just careful. He intended to revive the Black Lotus, but not as it was before. There would be fighting, sure, but it would not be for the entertainment of criminals. Instead it would be a training ground, a crucible he would use to forge a new UMA. No, not UMA. UCA. A movement for all Cheldrun who wanted to live their lives as equals without all of this caste bullshit.
He knew many Mechafied were still pissed about how the last revolt ended and could probably be galvanized if they were told that Moses was not dead, but out in the world at large spreading the message. Matthew felt a little bad about that planned deception, but in a way it was true: Moses and his friends, by simply being who they were, spread the message of freedom and pride in self wherever they went. Then he had heard that the Allskin families were restless, especially the oldest and most traditional ones. Apparently one of the most pious and upstanding Clans had turned against Goshi and been banished as traitors, but were still standing strong in a new city and were even beating the unbeatable Washisan pilots. The whispers among the Allskins were that if that Clan had turned against Goshi perhaps it was the will of the First Minds, and even if it was not the simple fact that they had not been crushed said that maybe it was time for them all to break out from under the Biomade corporation.
The Biomade now, they would be a problem. He could hardly expect Biomade to join him to throw off the yoke of Biomade oppression. He had a couple of tricks up his sleeve though. He had taken samples of a couple of Dr. Watanabe's drugs during their journey together. He could not do anything with them himself, but he had recognized their value. One would toughen a mind, help defend it against telepathic attack. The other dulled the mind and would temporarily dampen or even nullify a Biomade's psychic abilities within moments of injection. Yes, if it came down to fighting he had a few tricks to play. That was why he had always won in the arena; every opponent he had faced had seen his size and simply assumed he was nothing but a dumb straightforward brute. They were always that much more surprised then when he pulled a trick they had never seen coming.
Still, he would rather have as many allies as possible, and as little bloodshed. He wanted a united people after all so that he could hand them over to the right person when the time came. That would be a trick to top them all, and one that he knew he could be proud of for the rest of his days because he knew it would be good for all of his people. King Moses, hero of the Cheldrun. He liked the sound of that.
* * *
The lord fidgeted as he sat, his long-extinguished pipe gripped forgotten between his teeth. He was a consummate warrior, a leader and a fighter, but for this battle he was helpless. He had tried to remain to at least lend moral support, but had been firmly told that it was not his place and pushed out of the room. He, Lord Daitokuji Ichiro, pushed out of his own bedroom, and by his little sister at that! His wife was in labor with their first child. Modern medicine was a wonder, but women did still sometimes not survive the strain of childbirth and his Akane was a slight and delicate woman. And so he sat and worried in his sitting room in Matamos, two of his most loyal retainers quietly sipping tea and smoking their pipes and waiting with him for news.
Finally it came. Naomi came out to him, beaming with joy and excitement. Ichiro leapt to his feet and practically shouted, "Are they...?!"
"They are both well and sleeping soundly, brother. Your wife and your newborn son." Her grin seemed to take up her whole face. "What is his name?"
Laughing, he took Naomi in his arms and whirled her about. "Why what else could it be? My son's name will be Noboru and he will be as strong and wise as his grandfather!"
"A fine choice," intoned Master Yoshitaka. "Surely Lord Daitokuji's spirit will watch closely over the child named in his honor."
"There is more!" Naomi said with the air of one who had been saving a surprise for last. "Young Noboru; it is hard to tell with one just born, but I believe he will have pure silver hair!"
"Most auspicious!" This from Ichiro's boyhood friend and advisor, Shin.
Ichiro nodded, though his face clouded for a moment. "Hopefully it will not see him as troubled as his uncle."
Naomi rested a hand on her brother's arm and said "I am sure that Kiyoshi is fine, wherever he is. Do you not remember him as a child? He was always the smartest of us, the one to plan the mischief. If anyone can slip away from Goshi, he can!"
Master Yoshitaka nodded. "He was the finest student I ever had. I hope to one day see his training completed. For now know that he has his destiny, and you have yours. And, I would imagine, so does your new son for the First Minds to mark him so."
Ichiro dismissed his thoughts of his wayward brother with his peculiar ideas. His beaming grin returned fivefold as he said to his closest friends "Come. It is high time I meet my son." With that the patriarch of the Silver Phoenix Clan started for his bedroom and his sleeping family.
The two made good time and Tricks proved a surprisingly adept guide. His color had changed to a much healthier brown than his old tobacco-stain drab and he seemed more alert and friendly than Matthew had ever known him. He even talked of going to visit his old tribe for a time once they got back! Unfortunately it did not take him long to forget about that and fall back into his old habits almost as soon as they reached Geneva Prime once more. Within a week of their return Tricks, eyes blurred and face slack as he used to be, wandered off mumbling about knowing how to earn more money. That was the last Matthew had seen of him.
Now he was all alone, but that was alright. He had plenty of work to do after all. People had always thought of him as stupid because of his size and the way he liked to think things through. He was not dumb however, just careful. He intended to revive the Black Lotus, but not as it was before. There would be fighting, sure, but it would not be for the entertainment of criminals. Instead it would be a training ground, a crucible he would use to forge a new UMA. No, not UMA. UCA. A movement for all Cheldrun who wanted to live their lives as equals without all of this caste bullshit.
He knew many Mechafied were still pissed about how the last revolt ended and could probably be galvanized if they were told that Moses was not dead, but out in the world at large spreading the message. Matthew felt a little bad about that planned deception, but in a way it was true: Moses and his friends, by simply being who they were, spread the message of freedom and pride in self wherever they went. Then he had heard that the Allskin families were restless, especially the oldest and most traditional ones. Apparently one of the most pious and upstanding Clans had turned against Goshi and been banished as traitors, but were still standing strong in a new city and were even beating the unbeatable Washisan pilots. The whispers among the Allskins were that if that Clan had turned against Goshi perhaps it was the will of the First Minds, and even if it was not the simple fact that they had not been crushed said that maybe it was time for them all to break out from under the Biomade corporation.
The Biomade now, they would be a problem. He could hardly expect Biomade to join him to throw off the yoke of Biomade oppression. He had a couple of tricks up his sleeve though. He had taken samples of a couple of Dr. Watanabe's drugs during their journey together. He could not do anything with them himself, but he had recognized their value. One would toughen a mind, help defend it against telepathic attack. The other dulled the mind and would temporarily dampen or even nullify a Biomade's psychic abilities within moments of injection. Yes, if it came down to fighting he had a few tricks to play. That was why he had always won in the arena; every opponent he had faced had seen his size and simply assumed he was nothing but a dumb straightforward brute. They were always that much more surprised then when he pulled a trick they had never seen coming.
Still, he would rather have as many allies as possible, and as little bloodshed. He wanted a united people after all so that he could hand them over to the right person when the time came. That would be a trick to top them all, and one that he knew he could be proud of for the rest of his days because he knew it would be good for all of his people. King Moses, hero of the Cheldrun. He liked the sound of that.
* * *
The lord fidgeted as he sat, his long-extinguished pipe gripped forgotten between his teeth. He was a consummate warrior, a leader and a fighter, but for this battle he was helpless. He had tried to remain to at least lend moral support, but had been firmly told that it was not his place and pushed out of the room. He, Lord Daitokuji Ichiro, pushed out of his own bedroom, and by his little sister at that! His wife was in labor with their first child. Modern medicine was a wonder, but women did still sometimes not survive the strain of childbirth and his Akane was a slight and delicate woman. And so he sat and worried in his sitting room in Matamos, two of his most loyal retainers quietly sipping tea and smoking their pipes and waiting with him for news.
Finally it came. Naomi came out to him, beaming with joy and excitement. Ichiro leapt to his feet and practically shouted, "Are they...?!"
"They are both well and sleeping soundly, brother. Your wife and your newborn son." Her grin seemed to take up her whole face. "What is his name?"
Laughing, he took Naomi in his arms and whirled her about. "Why what else could it be? My son's name will be Noboru and he will be as strong and wise as his grandfather!"
"A fine choice," intoned Master Yoshitaka. "Surely Lord Daitokuji's spirit will watch closely over the child named in his honor."
"There is more!" Naomi said with the air of one who had been saving a surprise for last. "Young Noboru; it is hard to tell with one just born, but I believe he will have pure silver hair!"
"Most auspicious!" This from Ichiro's boyhood friend and advisor, Shin.
Ichiro nodded, though his face clouded for a moment. "Hopefully it will not see him as troubled as his uncle."
Naomi rested a hand on her brother's arm and said "I am sure that Kiyoshi is fine, wherever he is. Do you not remember him as a child? He was always the smartest of us, the one to plan the mischief. If anyone can slip away from Goshi, he can!"
Master Yoshitaka nodded. "He was the finest student I ever had. I hope to one day see his training completed. For now know that he has his destiny, and you have yours. And, I would imagine, so does your new son for the First Minds to mark him so."
Ichiro dismissed his thoughts of his wayward brother with his peculiar ideas. His beaming grin returned fivefold as he said to his closest friends "Come. It is high time I meet my son." With that the patriarch of the Silver Phoenix Clan started for his bedroom and his sleeping family.
Meditations
It had not occurred to me until I saw the tears in her eyes that Aimi was a person. Not really. She was an obstacle, a psychotic Biomade assassin that had caused no end of trouble for me and seemed to have a dangerous obsession; until I looked into her eyes in confusion and asked what she was talking about. In that moment I saw pain, real, visceral pain, and I realized that deep down inside she was just a fifteen year old girl who had been buried under years of training and conditioning and torture, both mental and physical, and who, for some strange reason of her own, had reached out to me, even if she did not realize what she was doing. She did not deserve this; none of them did. In the end she was just another victim, a Cheldrun who might have been able to have a normal life if it were not for her circumstances. The moment passed quickly, and she quickly covered it up with her usual bluster and irreverence... but I had seen who she really was, if only for a moment. Hopefully she would not kill me for that.
***
I meditated. I calmed my thoughts, relaxed my body, and slipped into the Void. Not plunging in, like I would do for battle, wrapping it about me like a shell; rather I slid in seamlessly, effortlessly, and let my thoughts drift away. Sometimes my mind showed me things it thought I should remember at times like this, and so it did now.
***
I held a cold, wet cloth to my eye to minimize the bruising. Master Yoshitaka sat next to me and offered me a rice ball, which I gratefully accepted. He did not speak. He did not ask why he had walked into the dojo to find me fighting (and losing badly to) his top student while the rest of the class watched. He just sat, patiently, and ate his sticky rice while he waited for me to speak. Finally I said "I am sorry, Master."
Without looking up from his rice he asked "And did you do something to be ashamed of?"
I nodded glumly. "I let my pride rule me and got in a fight I could not win. I broke the rules of the dojo and attacked another student outside of a formal bout. I would not blame you if you turn me away after this."
Still seeming to not pay me any attention, he asked me "And what could have made you so foolish as to do something like that? Hmm?"
I was not sure whether to be relieved or offended that he seemed to think my actions were of far less importance than his lunch. "Ryuunosuke was picking on the other students. He was bragging about how much better of a swordsman he was, and he... he said he was going to get genetic enhancements when he reached majority, to make himself even better than any of us could hope to be."
"And for this, you attacked him?"
"No! What he said angered me, yes, but I would not allow myself to be so easily goaded. Tsubasa, though... he spoke against Ryuunosuke, denounced him and said that his words were hollow, traitorous... and without honor."
"Do you think that was wise?"
"He was right!"
"That does not answer my question."
I sighed. "No, no it was not a wise thing to say. Tsubasa is still in his second year and half the size of Ryuunosuke; he could not hope to challenge him."
"But you still think he was right?"
"Yes, but... not for him."
Master Yoshitaka looked up at me then, looked right into my eyes and said "For another, perhaps, it was the right course?"
I nodded.
He chuckled. "It is good that you can understand the difference; sometimes the right choice is not the wise one. The path of the wise man and the path of the righteous man do not always coincide; often, but not always. And a course that is wise for some, right for some, maybe even necessary for one man, is not necessarily so for another. Many men older even than I have not yet learned that lesson." He nodded and went back to his rice ball. "Continue."
"Well, Ryuunosuke decided to punish Tsubasa, of course and I... I said I would not let him. I stood between them and... we fought. By the time you entered the dojo I was soundly beaten."
"Standing up for those weaker than yourself against those that would bully them; that was your shameful action, then?"
"What? No, I... I knew I could not defeat him. I should have gone to get you instead of fighting him myself. You were not far away; if I had ran, we could have been back in time to keep Ryuunosuke from hurting him badly."
"And if I had not been?"
"Pardon, Master?"
"If I had not been nearby, what then? If you had ran and let Ryuunosuke drub Tsubasa, perhaps hurt him badly, and I was nowhere to be found to help him? If the weak had been hurt and the other students had been cowed, or, worse, started to believe all of Ryuunosuke's claims after seeing him beat his only dissenter? What then? Would that have been a better course than a few bruises? Than showing your fellow students that you are willing to fight for them, for your beliefs, for your honor?"
"So, you are saying that even if I was not skilled enough to defeat him, it was still the right thing to do to fight him? Because I was defending those who were even less skilled than I?"
Master Yoshitaka finished his meal and looked up at me again, his eyes flashing. "Duty" he said. "That is the linchpin of honor, and you have learned the lesson well. It was right because it was your duty. You always were my best student."
I gave a disbelieving laugh. "But Master, surely you jest! Ryuunosuke proved himself not an hour ago a better swordsman, and he is far from the only student I could not defeat!"
He snorted. "And sometimes you remain dense. Did I say you were my best warrior? No, Ryuunosuke is that, and a thug besides, a bully. You, Kiyoshi, are my best student because you understand that in order to achieve victory you must use not only your blade, but also your heart and your mind. You are, what, sixteen summers? And yet you already can hold the Void better than any of the other students. Perhaps one day you will achieve mastery and be able to hold onto it indefinitely without fatiguing yourself. You have that potential, Kiyoshi, and so much more. Just remember always the lesson that you have taught yourself this day: duty, to yourself, to your family and clan, and to all Cheldrun."
I nodded. "Thank you Master. I swear I will always strive to make you proud. I will always strive to live up to the vision of the First Minds."
***
I was disturbed from my meditations by Sever and Stitch trying to goad me, to pick a fight. To fight them then would have been neither wise, nor right and so I ignored them until they got bored and left me.
***
It was all happening too fast. The video screen that Aimi had set up between us showed utter chaos in the Landing Square. Panicking soldiers, panicking Mechified, Rei fighting another woman who appeared to be a powerful psychic, poor Moses, his dreams for peace shattered... and Sankai... Ichiro's mecha. What was he doing there? His duty was to the clan, damn it! What had the others talked him into?
I stared, powerless at the screen. Particularly I stared at the metallic forms of Sankai and Moses. Damn it, I should be the one out there! It was my duty, my place! Ichiro had to think of his wife and unborn child, our sister, the entire Silver Phoenix clan; he could not help them this way! And Moses! I would not claim that I am stronger than him; not by a long shot. But I am harder. If he continues along this path, it will destroy him, or corrupt that which makes him pure, that which makes him suitable to even be a Symbol. It will leave him nothing but a husk as each of his dreams and beliefs dies one by one. I would probably be destroyed too, but not as quickly, and when it happens... well, the world can probably do with one less bureaucrat. Besides, it was my Duty. I will protect those that do not even see the danger coming. Moses. Rei. I look up at Aimi, staring avidly at the screen. Yes, her too. I had to convince her to let me go out there! I had to! I felt the need growing inside me, overwhelming me, and something else with it... I knew then what I had to do.
"And for this, you attacked him?"
"No! What he said angered me, yes, but I would not allow myself to be so easily goaded. Tsubasa, though... he spoke against Ryuunosuke, denounced him and said that his words were hollow, traitorous... and without honor."
"Do you think that was wise?"
"He was right!"
"That does not answer my question."
I sighed. "No, no it was not a wise thing to say. Tsubasa is still in his second year and half the size of Ryuunosuke; he could not hope to challenge him."
"But you still think he was right?"
"Yes, but... not for him."
Master Yoshitaka looked up at me then, looked right into my eyes and said "For another, perhaps, it was the right course?"
I nodded.
He chuckled. "It is good that you can understand the difference; sometimes the right choice is not the wise one. The path of the wise man and the path of the righteous man do not always coincide; often, but not always. And a course that is wise for some, right for some, maybe even necessary for one man, is not necessarily so for another. Many men older even than I have not yet learned that lesson." He nodded and went back to his rice ball. "Continue."
"Well, Ryuunosuke decided to punish Tsubasa, of course and I... I said I would not let him. I stood between them and... we fought. By the time you entered the dojo I was soundly beaten."
"Standing up for those weaker than yourself against those that would bully them; that was your shameful action, then?"
"What? No, I... I knew I could not defeat him. I should have gone to get you instead of fighting him myself. You were not far away; if I had ran, we could have been back in time to keep Ryuunosuke from hurting him badly."
"And if I had not been?"
"Pardon, Master?"
"If I had not been nearby, what then? If you had ran and let Ryuunosuke drub Tsubasa, perhaps hurt him badly, and I was nowhere to be found to help him? If the weak had been hurt and the other students had been cowed, or, worse, started to believe all of Ryuunosuke's claims after seeing him beat his only dissenter? What then? Would that have been a better course than a few bruises? Than showing your fellow students that you are willing to fight for them, for your beliefs, for your honor?"
"So, you are saying that even if I was not skilled enough to defeat him, it was still the right thing to do to fight him? Because I was defending those who were even less skilled than I?"
Master Yoshitaka finished his meal and looked up at me again, his eyes flashing. "Duty" he said. "That is the linchpin of honor, and you have learned the lesson well. It was right because it was your duty. You always were my best student."
I gave a disbelieving laugh. "But Master, surely you jest! Ryuunosuke proved himself not an hour ago a better swordsman, and he is far from the only student I could not defeat!"
He snorted. "And sometimes you remain dense. Did I say you were my best warrior? No, Ryuunosuke is that, and a thug besides, a bully. You, Kiyoshi, are my best student because you understand that in order to achieve victory you must use not only your blade, but also your heart and your mind. You are, what, sixteen summers? And yet you already can hold the Void better than any of the other students. Perhaps one day you will achieve mastery and be able to hold onto it indefinitely without fatiguing yourself. You have that potential, Kiyoshi, and so much more. Just remember always the lesson that you have taught yourself this day: duty, to yourself, to your family and clan, and to all Cheldrun."
I nodded. "Thank you Master. I swear I will always strive to make you proud. I will always strive to live up to the vision of the First Minds."
***
I was disturbed from my meditations by Sever and Stitch trying to goad me, to pick a fight. To fight them then would have been neither wise, nor right and so I ignored them until they got bored and left me.
***
It was all happening too fast. The video screen that Aimi had set up between us showed utter chaos in the Landing Square. Panicking soldiers, panicking Mechified, Rei fighting another woman who appeared to be a powerful psychic, poor Moses, his dreams for peace shattered... and Sankai... Ichiro's mecha. What was he doing there? His duty was to the clan, damn it! What had the others talked him into?
I stared, powerless at the screen. Particularly I stared at the metallic forms of Sankai and Moses. Damn it, I should be the one out there! It was my duty, my place! Ichiro had to think of his wife and unborn child, our sister, the entire Silver Phoenix clan; he could not help them this way! And Moses! I would not claim that I am stronger than him; not by a long shot. But I am harder. If he continues along this path, it will destroy him, or corrupt that which makes him pure, that which makes him suitable to even be a Symbol. It will leave him nothing but a husk as each of his dreams and beliefs dies one by one. I would probably be destroyed too, but not as quickly, and when it happens... well, the world can probably do with one less bureaucrat. Besides, it was my Duty. I will protect those that do not even see the danger coming. Moses. Rei. I look up at Aimi, staring avidly at the screen. Yes, her too. I had to convince her to let me go out there! I had to! I felt the need growing inside me, overwhelming me, and something else with it... I knew then what I had to do.
Fit for a King
Kiyoshi would never have believed it if someone had told him that he would be wearing a mechified training harness to his father's funeral. Yet there he stood in that hot, noisy apparatus trying to pretend he was a street cleaner or some such. It was humiliating, but necessary; one did not tread without care when Goshi wanted you dead, and there was no dishonor that would have been worse than not being present for his father's burial; and his own, he thought wryly, looking at the second casket symbolically laid out for himself, the report being that his body had either been incinerated or had been blown out the window and fell into the deepest parts of the mines, never to be seen again.
He watched somberly as his brother, Ichirou, spoke of their father's many deeds and awards. Nearby stood Ichirou's wife and their sister, Naomi, consoling each other in their grief. Kiyoshi wished very much that he could go to them, let them know that he was alive and well, and the real reason that their father had died, but he dared not. When those who hunted him were telepaths, the fewer people who knew he was alive the better. Speaking of which... Kiyoshi felt the tingling of something gliding over his mind, and quickly entered the Void to block access. In his heightened state of awareness he looked about, and, sure enough, there was a familiar pink-haired girl glancing about at everyone, her expression bored and yet almost... hopeful. Kiyoshi was incensed that she would dare to sully his father's funeral, but knew that the best thing to do in this case was to hide, so he carefully moved away from her, only dropping his combat meditations when he felt her probing stop.
He now found himself standing close to a gazebo that had been set up to shade its owner, none other than Tsuchinaga Yamoto, the man who, Kiyoshi knew, had paid for the funeral. Oh, he had not told him that we was going to, and would deny it if pressed, but Kiyoshi knew. Yamoto had been friends with his father as well, and if he wanted to contribute to make sure his burial was fitting to the lord that he had been, then the disguised young noble could find no fault. He just hoped that his attendence did not bring undue attention; besides Aimi poking about, Yamoto was one of a bare handful of Biomade in attendance, even though Lord Daitokuji had been one of the most important men in the city in his way, the Grand Master of the finest Mecha Academy in the world. Still, Yamoto was rich and powerful in his own right, and had made slipping away from trouble with seemingly no effort almost an art form, so Kiyoshi figured he would be alright.
Kiyoshi directed his attention once more to his brother, just finishing a speech about Kiyoshi himself, and the tireless efforts he had made on the part of his fellow Cheldrun. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling he got from hearing himself described thus, he thought that it was a tragedy that Ichirou, not even middle aged yet, would soon bear the burden of being Lord and Patriarch of the entire Silver Phoenix clan. If only he could be there to lend his mind and knowledge of administration! But no, first he had to find a way to protect himself from Goshi. They would not want any witnesses to what had happened during that demonstration, even if said witnesses had no idea what had really happened. Ichirou had left the podium and a new man, the new Grand Master of Washisan, apparently, had started in. Kiyoshi could not remember his name; he had never paid much attention to the politics of the Mecha pilots.
When he was finished, Ichirou himself threw the first symbolic handful of dirt over the caskets, along with flowers from Naomi, and Daitokuji Noboru, Patriarch of the Silver Phoenix clan and Grand Master of Washisan Academy was laid to rest beside his wife and, so most people thought, his second son. There was a sudden commotion then, as every single pilot of the Academy, student and master alike (and more than a few visiting from other cities to pay their respects to the fallen master) summoned their Mecha and stood in a line, gleaming in the sunlight. Surely a more impressive sight had not been seen in an age as dozens of Mecha saluted his father in a final farewell.
Kiyoshi had to turn away, a sudden gout of smoke from his suit causing his eyes to water (or so he told himself). And so he found himself face to face with Aimi, standing less than a meter away and peering at him, an expression of sadness on her singularly expressive face. Their eyes locked, and for a single, horrifying instant Kiyoshi thought that he would have to strike her down in the middle of the funeral. She just looked at him, however, and he heard a voice in his head. "I never had a father, but I think if I did have one, and he died, I would be really sad. I am off today, anyway. I just wanted to say... I am sorry for your loss." After this silent communication, she stood up on tip toes and placed a small kiss on his dusty, tear-streaked cheek, then turned and walked away without a word. With one last glance at his siblings, Kiyoshi resolutely did the same.
He watched somberly as his brother, Ichirou, spoke of their father's many deeds and awards. Nearby stood Ichirou's wife and their sister, Naomi, consoling each other in their grief. Kiyoshi wished very much that he could go to them, let them know that he was alive and well, and the real reason that their father had died, but he dared not. When those who hunted him were telepaths, the fewer people who knew he was alive the better. Speaking of which... Kiyoshi felt the tingling of something gliding over his mind, and quickly entered the Void to block access. In his heightened state of awareness he looked about, and, sure enough, there was a familiar pink-haired girl glancing about at everyone, her expression bored and yet almost... hopeful. Kiyoshi was incensed that she would dare to sully his father's funeral, but knew that the best thing to do in this case was to hide, so he carefully moved away from her, only dropping his combat meditations when he felt her probing stop.
He now found himself standing close to a gazebo that had been set up to shade its owner, none other than Tsuchinaga Yamoto, the man who, Kiyoshi knew, had paid for the funeral. Oh, he had not told him that we was going to, and would deny it if pressed, but Kiyoshi knew. Yamoto had been friends with his father as well, and if he wanted to contribute to make sure his burial was fitting to the lord that he had been, then the disguised young noble could find no fault. He just hoped that his attendence did not bring undue attention; besides Aimi poking about, Yamoto was one of a bare handful of Biomade in attendance, even though Lord Daitokuji had been one of the most important men in the city in his way, the Grand Master of the finest Mecha Academy in the world. Still, Yamoto was rich and powerful in his own right, and had made slipping away from trouble with seemingly no effort almost an art form, so Kiyoshi figured he would be alright.
Kiyoshi directed his attention once more to his brother, just finishing a speech about Kiyoshi himself, and the tireless efforts he had made on the part of his fellow Cheldrun. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling he got from hearing himself described thus, he thought that it was a tragedy that Ichirou, not even middle aged yet, would soon bear the burden of being Lord and Patriarch of the entire Silver Phoenix clan. If only he could be there to lend his mind and knowledge of administration! But no, first he had to find a way to protect himself from Goshi. They would not want any witnesses to what had happened during that demonstration, even if said witnesses had no idea what had really happened. Ichirou had left the podium and a new man, the new Grand Master of Washisan, apparently, had started in. Kiyoshi could not remember his name; he had never paid much attention to the politics of the Mecha pilots.
When he was finished, Ichirou himself threw the first symbolic handful of dirt over the caskets, along with flowers from Naomi, and Daitokuji Noboru, Patriarch of the Silver Phoenix clan and Grand Master of Washisan Academy was laid to rest beside his wife and, so most people thought, his second son. There was a sudden commotion then, as every single pilot of the Academy, student and master alike (and more than a few visiting from other cities to pay their respects to the fallen master) summoned their Mecha and stood in a line, gleaming in the sunlight. Surely a more impressive sight had not been seen in an age as dozens of Mecha saluted his father in a final farewell.
Kiyoshi had to turn away, a sudden gout of smoke from his suit causing his eyes to water (or so he told himself). And so he found himself face to face with Aimi, standing less than a meter away and peering at him, an expression of sadness on her singularly expressive face. Their eyes locked, and for a single, horrifying instant Kiyoshi thought that he would have to strike her down in the middle of the funeral. She just looked at him, however, and he heard a voice in his head. "I never had a father, but I think if I did have one, and he died, I would be really sad. I am off today, anyway. I just wanted to say... I am sorry for your loss." After this silent communication, she stood up on tip toes and placed a small kiss on his dusty, tear-streaked cheek, then turned and walked away without a word. With one last glance at his siblings, Kiyoshi resolutely did the same.
Pulling Strings
Kiyoshi had to consciously keep himself from sneering when he looked upon the recumbent form of Tsuchinaga Yamato. Most Biomade were in great physical shape, but this one was positively corpulent. Yes, Tsuchinaga was one of Kiyoshi's only Biomade friends, and, yes, the old warrior had probably earned the right to some luxury, but in looking upon the enormous man lying back on his silk cushions, surrounded by platters of food and wine, overwhelming incense and young girls who really should not have bothered to wear anything at all for all the good their outfits did them, he could not help but look upon such gluttony as weakness.
"Kiyoshi! To what do I owe this honor, Director?" Even the man's voice was larger than normal, booming jovially.
"Director no more; I have been relieved of my position, as you have probably already heard, Yamoto."
His host sighed. "That I have, but I was hoping it was not true."
Kiyoshi lifted an eyebrow and regarded Yamoto coolly. "The decision was unanimous, 'old friend'. You were one of the signatories on the order."
"Yes, but I had hoped they would not get enough of them! Not everyone on the Board was against you, as you know. Still, there are certain persuasive factors that would have made it very unwise for me to side with you. Surely you did not expect me to stand up to the likes of Blade?"
It was the young Allskin's turn to sigh. "No, I suppose not. Now at least I know I still have one ally left on the board who can keep me in the loop as to what is going on."
"That's the spirit m'boy! And I have a couple of choice bits for you now, if you've a mind to listen."
Kiyoshi simply nodded and sat upon one of the many cushions scattered about.
"Well, most importantly, there have been attacks on some of the directors recently. A couple of them have even been killed!"
Kiyoshi made an encouraging murmur, knowing his large friend's flair for the dramatic. It was obvious that there was more to come.
"They say that someone attacked Katashi Blade himself; he was unharmed, of course, more's the pity. Typhon was found dead in his office, not that anyone will mourn that one." He paused, obviously waiting for encouragement from his audience.
"Really now? And what else?"
"Well, it looks like your pet project is starting on its own! A Mechified revolt down in the mine, they say. A small incident, but you know how these things can grow; they say that one of the AD's got killed in the scuffle, Jung or Jun or something... I don't know, all those little pencil-necks look the same to me."
Kiyoshi cursed. "Those fools! Don't they know that if they try to revolt now it will be a bloodbath? Without the support of the Allskin families, the Biomade will simply slaughter them, if they do not do it first themselves!"
Yamoto shrugged. "What's done is done, m'boy." He squinted shrewdly at his young guest. His gossip dispensed with, he was determined to get his price of a new story. "They say that the circumstances of your dismissal were... unusual. They say that you had a visitor; a young girl. Someone you would normally think would be spending all her time rebelling and listening to that 'raving' music you kids love so much."
Kiyoshi nodded. "An agent of some sort, a mind reader. A bit... unorthodox, but definitely more dangerous than she looked."
"Did I not just finish telling you that someone's trying to off Directors?! She was an assassin, mark my words!"
Again, a nod. "She admitted as much. But she was not there to kill me; apparently I am not important enough to kill." That last was almost bitter.
"Maybe not, and you should be glad of that," said Yamoto somberly. "But remember who you are: the second son of Daitokuji Noboru, one of the Grand Masters of Washisan Academy, a man who has personally trained some of the finest Mecha Pilots in the world, including your older brother and younger sister. Someone might see you as a weak link to strike at them."
Kiyoshi's fists clenched as he said "They would be most grievously mistaken in that."
Yamoto waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa, m'boy! You don't need to convince me of that! I was just speculating." He peered at Kiyoshi again. "I always did wonder why you didn't become a pilot like the rest of your family though."
Eyes flashing, Kiyoshi sneered. "Because I thought my intelligence should not be wasted on nothing more than going to brawl every time two cities decided to squabble over who owned a piece of Blackrock! My father agreed; that is why he helped me attain my position at Goshi when no other Allskin would have been considered."
The older man nodded. "Still, you should be careful. Give me some more info on that girl who visited you and I will look into it; see if I can figure out who she works for, at least."
Kiyoshi half-smiled, something that was not lost on his observant host. "She was very... distinctive. Tiny, not more than five feet tall. Lithe. Wild, bright pink hair. Blood red eyes." He shrugged. "Cute. Like someone's little sister that grew up and decided to start rebelling."
Yamoto nodded again. "Red eyes, you say? Where have I heard that before? Ah, it'll come to me. I'll look into it, lad, don't worry."
Kiyoshi stood and nodded to the only man he had ever let call him names such as "m'boy" or "lad", probably because the old warrior called everyone by such names. "Thank you. Be careful, though; you are a Director too."
Yamoto looked around in mock surprise. "Me? Ah, I may not be an Allskin, and therefore not worth killing, but I have worked long and hard to make myself too indispensable to get rid of. Besides, I don't cause trouble, unlike some young men I can name, so why would anyone want to bump off some fat old has-been?"
Kiyoshi chuckled as he bowed and left. Once he was gone, Tsuchinaga Yamoto watched the door that he had went through for a good, long time. "Who indeed?"
"Kiyoshi! To what do I owe this honor, Director?" Even the man's voice was larger than normal, booming jovially.
"Director no more; I have been relieved of my position, as you have probably already heard, Yamoto."
His host sighed. "That I have, but I was hoping it was not true."
Kiyoshi lifted an eyebrow and regarded Yamoto coolly. "The decision was unanimous, 'old friend'. You were one of the signatories on the order."
"Yes, but I had hoped they would not get enough of them! Not everyone on the Board was against you, as you know. Still, there are certain persuasive factors that would have made it very unwise for me to side with you. Surely you did not expect me to stand up to the likes of Blade?"
It was the young Allskin's turn to sigh. "No, I suppose not. Now at least I know I still have one ally left on the board who can keep me in the loop as to what is going on."
"That's the spirit m'boy! And I have a couple of choice bits for you now, if you've a mind to listen."
Kiyoshi simply nodded and sat upon one of the many cushions scattered about.
"Well, most importantly, there have been attacks on some of the directors recently. A couple of them have even been killed!"
Kiyoshi made an encouraging murmur, knowing his large friend's flair for the dramatic. It was obvious that there was more to come.
"They say that someone attacked Katashi Blade himself; he was unharmed, of course, more's the pity. Typhon was found dead in his office, not that anyone will mourn that one." He paused, obviously waiting for encouragement from his audience.
"Really now? And what else?"
"Well, it looks like your pet project is starting on its own! A Mechified revolt down in the mine, they say. A small incident, but you know how these things can grow; they say that one of the AD's got killed in the scuffle, Jung or Jun or something... I don't know, all those little pencil-necks look the same to me."
Kiyoshi cursed. "Those fools! Don't they know that if they try to revolt now it will be a bloodbath? Without the support of the Allskin families, the Biomade will simply slaughter them, if they do not do it first themselves!"
Yamoto shrugged. "What's done is done, m'boy." He squinted shrewdly at his young guest. His gossip dispensed with, he was determined to get his price of a new story. "They say that the circumstances of your dismissal were... unusual. They say that you had a visitor; a young girl. Someone you would normally think would be spending all her time rebelling and listening to that 'raving' music you kids love so much."
Kiyoshi nodded. "An agent of some sort, a mind reader. A bit... unorthodox, but definitely more dangerous than she looked."
"Did I not just finish telling you that someone's trying to off Directors?! She was an assassin, mark my words!"
Again, a nod. "She admitted as much. But she was not there to kill me; apparently I am not important enough to kill." That last was almost bitter.
"Maybe not, and you should be glad of that," said Yamoto somberly. "But remember who you are: the second son of Daitokuji Noboru, one of the Grand Masters of Washisan Academy, a man who has personally trained some of the finest Mecha Pilots in the world, including your older brother and younger sister. Someone might see you as a weak link to strike at them."
Kiyoshi's fists clenched as he said "They would be most grievously mistaken in that."
Yamoto waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa, m'boy! You don't need to convince me of that! I was just speculating." He peered at Kiyoshi again. "I always did wonder why you didn't become a pilot like the rest of your family though."
Eyes flashing, Kiyoshi sneered. "Because I thought my intelligence should not be wasted on nothing more than going to brawl every time two cities decided to squabble over who owned a piece of Blackrock! My father agreed; that is why he helped me attain my position at Goshi when no other Allskin would have been considered."
The older man nodded. "Still, you should be careful. Give me some more info on that girl who visited you and I will look into it; see if I can figure out who she works for, at least."
Kiyoshi half-smiled, something that was not lost on his observant host. "She was very... distinctive. Tiny, not more than five feet tall. Lithe. Wild, bright pink hair. Blood red eyes." He shrugged. "Cute. Like someone's little sister that grew up and decided to start rebelling."
Yamoto nodded again. "Red eyes, you say? Where have I heard that before? Ah, it'll come to me. I'll look into it, lad, don't worry."
Kiyoshi stood and nodded to the only man he had ever let call him names such as "m'boy" or "lad", probably because the old warrior called everyone by such names. "Thank you. Be careful, though; you are a Director too."
Yamoto looked around in mock surprise. "Me? Ah, I may not be an Allskin, and therefore not worth killing, but I have worked long and hard to make myself too indispensable to get rid of. Besides, I don't cause trouble, unlike some young men I can name, so why would anyone want to bump off some fat old has-been?"
Kiyoshi chuckled as he bowed and left. Once he was gone, Tsuchinaga Yamoto watched the door that he had went through for a good, long time. "Who indeed?"
Story Time
This story is about love.
Well, it’s about plenty of things, but love’s as good a place to start as any, isn’t it? It starts with a young man with dreams of adventure, of grand chases and maidens what need saving, riding on the backs of dragons and battles with the dark magics of the Karians.
Ryu Washisan was his name, a member of some clan or another. It was hard to keep it all straight in his head. He’d grown up like most Allskins in a world of tattered finery and faded glory. He’d spent hours and hours and hours learning all sorts of useless things, like which fork to use with which dish, when to swap out his spoons during a meal, why he should always keep his word of honour. It hadn’t stuck. Well, except for that honour part. A little bit. ... Less than his family would have liked. ... Well, he did ok.
Come time for his teenaged years, Ryu didn’t think much of his family. They were holding him back, he thought. They expected him to be some kind of gorram Messiah, and he just wasn’t interested in fighting in the arena. He was much more interested in finding out if any maidens needed saving.
He didn’t have much luck in that regard.
All of that changed in his twenty second year of life: the day he met Sylvia. She perfect in that airbrushed Biomade sort of way. Hair just so, proportions just so. Long blue hair, expressive blue eyes, nary a blemish to be found.
Ryu was young and foolish, and he was in love scarcely before she’d so much as said, “Hello.” Well, in lust anyways. That’s how it started. They saw each other pretty regularly for the next couple months, and soon enough he had started to mean it when he swore his undying love for her. Another couple of months passed before (much to both of their surprise), she found that she loved him back.
Course, that didn’t help either of them when she tried to pilot his mecha to save his life when the vengeful student of a rival school went after him a year after their first meeting. Or maybe it did. First Age artifacts don't work for Biomade, after all, but it responded to her touch. Or maybe the dragon-mecha sensed its master was in danger, and simply tolerated her touch. It doesn't really matter at this point, considering what happened. The dragon-mecha responded to her touch and flew to his side in a matter of seconds. Now, there are many horrible ways to die, but burning up in the molten remains of what used to be the cockpit of your mecha after a burst of dragonfire hits it dead on? Probably one of the worst. Ryu wasn’t sure if the poor sap had drowned or burned first, but whichever it was, it had looked painful.
Unfortunately, as is the case with most things, the victory came at a price. There on top of the dragon-mecha, her hands still clasped around the reigns, Sylvia was fading. Fading like a ghost. The dragon’s metallic eyes pulsed again and again, and with each pulse, Sylvia faded a little more.
That didn’t go over well with either of them.
They tried everything they could think of with no success. Then came the tears, the anger, the recriminations. Then Sylvia was gone without a trace, and the dragon's eyes gleamed fitfully in the light of the setting sun.
Heartbroken and unwilling to go back to the life that had started all of this business, Ryu, scion of the Washisan Academy, climbed onto the back of the dragon-mecha, whipped its reigns savagely, and flew off into the setting sun, never to be seen again. Or at least, he was pretty thoroughly determined never to be seen again. You know how it goes, though. Going unseen is easier when you aren’t flying on the back of a metal dragon.
So that’s the story. Just one more tragedy in a world full of them, I guess. There’s a moral here somewhere. Guard your heart, maybe? Hide your love away? Maybe it’s better to have loved and lost? Whatever. The point is, it's a story about love, and loss.
Don't give me that look. Were you expecting something more? Something less depressing, maybe? Well, maybe there's more to be told. Maybe that's not the end of the story, with Ryu heart broken, leaving behind every obligation for a life of freedom in the wilds of Karia, and taking the very source of his grief there with him.
Time will tell. It usually does.
An Opening Move
Daitokuji Kiyoshi made his way through the upper halls of the central offices of Goshi Mining Corp, ignoring the various messengers and assistants who quickly removed themselves from his path and bowed as he walked by. His was a warrior's stride, not that any of those he passed would recognize such. Of the Silver Phoenix clan, he wore the traditional pale gray kimono proudly, making him stand out among the various business suits that usually graced the halls. His appearance was striking not only for his clothing, however: unusually tall and thin, his features were pale and cruelly perfect enough that not a few people had mistaken him for Biomade at first glance. Fluorescent lights reflected off his glasses in such a way that it made it impossible to tell his eye color, but everyone here knew well that they matched his hair, silver even though he was still a young man, thick and unbound as it flowed halfway down his back. His coloration marked him as a pure blood of his clan, features for which it had been named so very long ago; not that anyone other than an Allskin would know or care. He held his position not due to the honor and history of his clan, but due to the influence of his father, Daitokuji Noboru, in the Academy.
He reached his office, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Flicking on the lights, he was immediately made aware of a most distressing fact: he had a visitor, one who was quietly sitting in his chair at his own desk, waiting for him patiently in the dark. Even more disconcerting was that this person clearly did not belong here: by all appearances some punk kid out of the nearest club! A young woman, barely of the age of majority, clad in black leather meant to accentuate what little form she had, the intruder could not have been more than five feet tall. Still, she looked quite sure of herself as she sat there, quietly watching the owner of the desk she sat at with large, expressive eyes made to seem even larger with expertly applied makeup. Like Kiyoshi himself, however, her most striking feature was her coloration. Like him she was alabaster pale of skin, but more unusual by far was the fact that her eyes were red and her short, raggedly cropped hair was bright pink!
Kiyoshi took a moment to take in her appearance as he calmly closed the office door. "Do you have any idea who..." he began, but she cut in smoothly.
"I know precisely who you are, Director Daitokuji Kiyoshi, son of Daitokuji Noboru, the Grand Master of the..."
Kiyoshi interrupted her in turn. "I am familiar with my own identity, and that of my father. What I am not familiar with is yours. I would suggest you explain yourself. Now."
"I am not just a 'punk kid', Director Daitokuji."
He narrowed his eyes at the girl. "A mind reader," he stated more than asked. She simply smirked. "Then you know precisely what I will do to you if you do not immediately explain who you are and what you are doing in my office."
Her eyes widened slightly. "My, my, how deliciously naughty. Very well, Kiyoshi. May I call you Kiyoshi?"
"No."
His rebuttal did not seem to phase her. "My name is Aimi."
"An assassin?"
She gave a shrug with just one shoulder. "Sometimes. Not today though. Today I am just a messenger." She gestured to a document sitting on the desk. Curious, Kiyoshi picked it up and quickly looked it over. It was a notice of his termination from his position on the board.
"By whose authority?" he asked, obviously agitated.
"Why, it was a unanimous decision by the entirety of your fellow Directors. Not even your father will be able to overturn this decision. Apparently your recent attempts to take jobs away from poor Mechafied workers did not go over very well."
He glared indignantly. "I have been fighting to improve their conditions! They are our fellow Cheldrun and the Corporation treats them like slaves! It should mean something more to be Cheldrun; they should not have to die in those forsaken mines for little pay and less recognition!"
Aimi gave a dismissive snort. "You Allskins, always so arrogant, so shortsighted. You just cannot stand not being in charge, so you would take work and food away from the mouths of your fellows just to show your power! And even if you got your way, how then would we get the Blackrock necessary for our way of life? Or would you have us all live in the dark for your arrogance?"
Kiyoshi snarled. "We have captured Karian war criminals, do we not? Use them! Work every last one of them to death for all I care! We, the Cheldrun, deserve better than what your masters would give any but their own!"
She shook her head, affecting a look of disappointment and sadness. "You would even seek to hurt the poor, misguided natives? Does your cruelty and ambition know no bounds? It is well done that you are removed from your position, Kiyoshi."
About to retort, Kiyoshi noticed that, despite her tone, her eyes were flashing with what could only be glee. This impertinent Biomade girl was enjoying this! He realized then that this was a battle, perhaps as deadly as any, and that he had to react accordingly. Anger had no place in battle, nor confusion. And so he did as he had been taught since he was a child: he fed his emotions, his very self, to the Void. When in battle there was no time for thought, no time for distraction, and so a true warrior learned to become one with the Void. What was not there could not be cut; what was not detected could not be defended against. In order to win, there must be no thought, only action, only the need to cut down one's opponent immediately and utterly. He entered the Void then and so became invincible.
He saw Aimi's eyes widen for the first time in genuine shock, even fear. He saw her start to reach for a concealed weapon in her vest. Any onlooker would have said that she moved astonishingly fast, almost faster than the eye could follow. It was not fast enough. The problem, as with so many others who fought but were not truly warriors, was thought. First she had to realize that something was wrong; then she had to reach the decision that something had to be done about it. She then had to decide what needed to be done and only then did her brain tell her hand to reach for her gun. All of this happened in mere fractions of a second, but it still took time. Kiyoshi did not; he simply acted.
Before her weapon was even halfway out of its holster, Aimi found a long, slightly curved sword resting at the hollow of her throat, deep purple runes glowing along the silvery blade. The blade had sprung out of the hilt that simply seemed to be in Kiyoshi's hand instantly, as though by magic. Slowly, she released her hold on her gun and put her hands in the air.
"How do you do that?" she gasped. "How do you keep me out of your mind? That should be impossible for an Allskin!"
His blade did not waver in the slightest. "That is the arrogance of your kind; you think that we Allskins were left pure for no other reason than to be a control group. You think that we are now obsolete, that our place in the Grand Experiment of the First Minds is no longer necessary. But perhaps your manipulations have not been as successful as you thought. Perhaps we, who have remained pure all this time, are evolving in a way you cannot comprehend, a way guided by nature instead of by the fallible hands of our fellows."
She sneered. "Nature is obsolete."
"If that is the case, why are you at my mercy? Why can you not enter my mind?"
Again, her expression changed, seemingly as mutable as quicksilver. She was now staring at him with what could only be described as open and unabashed admiration. "What a Biomade you would make," she breathed. "With some genetic enhancements you could be... magnificent!"
This sudden change of direction threw him off, and Kiyoshi felt his grip on the Void waver. "You are mad."
Aimi's face became stern and angry; she looked older now than she had before. "Do not presume to speak to me of madness until you have experienced what it is like to hear the thoughts of everyone around you, deafening, not being able to sort out one from another." The anger slipped away and she looked then like nothing more than what she was: a sad and frightened young woman, barely more than a girl, at the mercy of a man more than a foot taller and half again her age. Feeling disgusted with himself, Kiyoshi retracted the blade and turned away, the Void fleeing for now.
She spoke, her voice soft and wondering. "You are not going to kill me then?"
He shook his head. "No, there would be no honor in it. You cannot help the way they made you." He turned around to find her standing very close, only inches away. She looked up at him with her big, red eyes and then smiled at him impishly.
"Do you think I'm cute?" she asked out of nowhere. Startled, Kiyoshi stepped back and stared at her disbelievingly, coloring slightly. She took this as a cue to pose, then laughed in delight. "Oh, this is going to be a fun game!"
Rolling his eyes at her declaration, he gave her a curt nod and opened the door to leave what was no longer his office. There was nothing in there worth trying to retrieve under the eyes of the crazed Biomade. Just as the door was shutting behind him he heard a giggle and her voice saying "Your move."
Daitokuji Kiyoshi made his way through the upper halls of the central offices of Goshi Mining Corp, ignoring the various messengers and assistants who quickly removed themselves from his path and bowed as he walked by. He had contacts of his own, strings to pull. He found himself smiling and quickly schooled his features. He could not help but think that she had been right about one thing: this was going to be a fun game.
He reached his office, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Flicking on the lights, he was immediately made aware of a most distressing fact: he had a visitor, one who was quietly sitting in his chair at his own desk, waiting for him patiently in the dark. Even more disconcerting was that this person clearly did not belong here: by all appearances some punk kid out of the nearest club! A young woman, barely of the age of majority, clad in black leather meant to accentuate what little form she had, the intruder could not have been more than five feet tall. Still, she looked quite sure of herself as she sat there, quietly watching the owner of the desk she sat at with large, expressive eyes made to seem even larger with expertly applied makeup. Like Kiyoshi himself, however, her most striking feature was her coloration. Like him she was alabaster pale of skin, but more unusual by far was the fact that her eyes were red and her short, raggedly cropped hair was bright pink!
Kiyoshi took a moment to take in her appearance as he calmly closed the office door. "Do you have any idea who..." he began, but she cut in smoothly.
"I know precisely who you are, Director Daitokuji Kiyoshi, son of Daitokuji Noboru, the Grand Master of the..."
Kiyoshi interrupted her in turn. "I am familiar with my own identity, and that of my father. What I am not familiar with is yours. I would suggest you explain yourself. Now."
"I am not just a 'punk kid', Director Daitokuji."
He narrowed his eyes at the girl. "A mind reader," he stated more than asked. She simply smirked. "Then you know precisely what I will do to you if you do not immediately explain who you are and what you are doing in my office."
Her eyes widened slightly. "My, my, how deliciously naughty. Very well, Kiyoshi. May I call you Kiyoshi?"
"No."
His rebuttal did not seem to phase her. "My name is Aimi."
"An assassin?"
She gave a shrug with just one shoulder. "Sometimes. Not today though. Today I am just a messenger." She gestured to a document sitting on the desk. Curious, Kiyoshi picked it up and quickly looked it over. It was a notice of his termination from his position on the board.
"By whose authority?" he asked, obviously agitated.
"Why, it was a unanimous decision by the entirety of your fellow Directors. Not even your father will be able to overturn this decision. Apparently your recent attempts to take jobs away from poor Mechafied workers did not go over very well."
He glared indignantly. "I have been fighting to improve their conditions! They are our fellow Cheldrun and the Corporation treats them like slaves! It should mean something more to be Cheldrun; they should not have to die in those forsaken mines for little pay and less recognition!"
Aimi gave a dismissive snort. "You Allskins, always so arrogant, so shortsighted. You just cannot stand not being in charge, so you would take work and food away from the mouths of your fellows just to show your power! And even if you got your way, how then would we get the Blackrock necessary for our way of life? Or would you have us all live in the dark for your arrogance?"
Kiyoshi snarled. "We have captured Karian war criminals, do we not? Use them! Work every last one of them to death for all I care! We, the Cheldrun, deserve better than what your masters would give any but their own!"
She shook her head, affecting a look of disappointment and sadness. "You would even seek to hurt the poor, misguided natives? Does your cruelty and ambition know no bounds? It is well done that you are removed from your position, Kiyoshi."
About to retort, Kiyoshi noticed that, despite her tone, her eyes were flashing with what could only be glee. This impertinent Biomade girl was enjoying this! He realized then that this was a battle, perhaps as deadly as any, and that he had to react accordingly. Anger had no place in battle, nor confusion. And so he did as he had been taught since he was a child: he fed his emotions, his very self, to the Void. When in battle there was no time for thought, no time for distraction, and so a true warrior learned to become one with the Void. What was not there could not be cut; what was not detected could not be defended against. In order to win, there must be no thought, only action, only the need to cut down one's opponent immediately and utterly. He entered the Void then and so became invincible.
He saw Aimi's eyes widen for the first time in genuine shock, even fear. He saw her start to reach for a concealed weapon in her vest. Any onlooker would have said that she moved astonishingly fast, almost faster than the eye could follow. It was not fast enough. The problem, as with so many others who fought but were not truly warriors, was thought. First she had to realize that something was wrong; then she had to reach the decision that something had to be done about it. She then had to decide what needed to be done and only then did her brain tell her hand to reach for her gun. All of this happened in mere fractions of a second, but it still took time. Kiyoshi did not; he simply acted.
Before her weapon was even halfway out of its holster, Aimi found a long, slightly curved sword resting at the hollow of her throat, deep purple runes glowing along the silvery blade. The blade had sprung out of the hilt that simply seemed to be in Kiyoshi's hand instantly, as though by magic. Slowly, she released her hold on her gun and put her hands in the air.
"How do you do that?" she gasped. "How do you keep me out of your mind? That should be impossible for an Allskin!"
His blade did not waver in the slightest. "That is the arrogance of your kind; you think that we Allskins were left pure for no other reason than to be a control group. You think that we are now obsolete, that our place in the Grand Experiment of the First Minds is no longer necessary. But perhaps your manipulations have not been as successful as you thought. Perhaps we, who have remained pure all this time, are evolving in a way you cannot comprehend, a way guided by nature instead of by the fallible hands of our fellows."
She sneered. "Nature is obsolete."
"If that is the case, why are you at my mercy? Why can you not enter my mind?"
Again, her expression changed, seemingly as mutable as quicksilver. She was now staring at him with what could only be described as open and unabashed admiration. "What a Biomade you would make," she breathed. "With some genetic enhancements you could be... magnificent!"
This sudden change of direction threw him off, and Kiyoshi felt his grip on the Void waver. "You are mad."
Aimi's face became stern and angry; she looked older now than she had before. "Do not presume to speak to me of madness until you have experienced what it is like to hear the thoughts of everyone around you, deafening, not being able to sort out one from another." The anger slipped away and she looked then like nothing more than what she was: a sad and frightened young woman, barely more than a girl, at the mercy of a man more than a foot taller and half again her age. Feeling disgusted with himself, Kiyoshi retracted the blade and turned away, the Void fleeing for now.
She spoke, her voice soft and wondering. "You are not going to kill me then?"
He shook his head. "No, there would be no honor in it. You cannot help the way they made you." He turned around to find her standing very close, only inches away. She looked up at him with her big, red eyes and then smiled at him impishly.
"Do you think I'm cute?" she asked out of nowhere. Startled, Kiyoshi stepped back and stared at her disbelievingly, coloring slightly. She took this as a cue to pose, then laughed in delight. "Oh, this is going to be a fun game!"
Rolling his eyes at her declaration, he gave her a curt nod and opened the door to leave what was no longer his office. There was nothing in there worth trying to retrieve under the eyes of the crazed Biomade. Just as the door was shutting behind him he heard a giggle and her voice saying "Your move."
Daitokuji Kiyoshi made his way through the upper halls of the central offices of Goshi Mining Corp, ignoring the various messengers and assistants who quickly removed themselves from his path and bowed as he walked by. He had contacts of his own, strings to pull. He found himself smiling and quickly schooled his features. He could not help but think that she had been right about one thing: this was going to be a fun game.
Allskins
Since the purpose of the Allskin caste is to be a living safeguard against the eradication of the species, it is natural that over time the identity of this caste came to be tied up with purity, lineage and tradition. In the early days of the Experiment there were some who were very disappointed not to be allowed to participate in the exciting developments that were underway. While the Biomade were developing ever more powerful psychic powers and the Mechifieds were being engineered into a remarkable skilled labor force, the Allskins remained as they had always been. The dissatisfaction this produced in some led to the realization that the protection of the Allskin caste would require affording them certain privileges in recompense for their nonparticipation.
In no time, the Allskin caste became an aristocratic class of landowners, bureaucrats and administrators. Allskin families developed a complex social network where lineage, honor, artistic taste and civility were the marks of a true Cheldrun. At the height of the Cheldrun civilization, before the Flight, the Allskins were wealthy beyond compare, living in lavish palaces with the finest frescoes and the most delicate plasterwork. They wore silk kimonos in their clan colors so everyone would know who they were. They commanded respect because they were nearly sacred in Cheldrun society. That was a time when no Allskin ever fought or risked their lives for anything. They had others to do that for them.
The long Flight changed all that. Although some Allskin families retain a shadow of their former glory, most Allskin families now are in some measure of poverty, though they strive not to show it on the outside. The Biomade and the Mechified feel that the Great Experiment is now over. Biological and mechanical auto-augmentation has been going on for countless centuries. There is no reason to fear a catastrophe. No reason to safeguard the species. Allskins are a relic of a backward time to them. Many Allskins abandoned their sacred status and joined one of the other castes, but some families still hold to the old ways and gravely shake their heads at the deterioration of their race. The vision of the First Minds is being corrupted, they would say.
With the disintegration of the social order and the disgrace of the Allskin caste only one distinction remained to them – and it is perhaps the only thing preserving this beleaguered group. Back when the Great Experiment was begun the First Minds programmed certain artifacts of war to activate only for an Allskin. These ancient relics of Cheldrun history are still in the possession of the remaining Allskins. Venerable families still maintain the towering Mecha, which can only be operated by Allskin pilots, along with long range rifles, armor and other paraphernalia of war. The disintegration of unity that happened shortly after the Cheldrun landed on the surface has meant that they’ve had no shortage of employment. Indeed, adapting their old codes of honor to warfare has resulted in a situation where conflicts between Cheldrun cities are often resolved through Mecha duels between champions from each side. Powerful cities run schools for Allskin Mecha pilots where internal competition is rife because only the deadliest pilots get to be named champion.
***
Players who wish to play an Allskin character should carefully reconstruct the character’s lineage and clan affiliation. Their wardrobe, speech and demeanor should carry a hint of the old-world feudal society of lordship. Ranks and titles are important to them. Allskins prize skill at the arts, writing, and etiquette as much or more than they value skill at arms or piloting ability. Consider playing an Allskin if you want to play a character with a code of honor.
Appearance: Allskins are the most human characters in the world. Unlike the Biomade their skin is imperfect, their faces aren't perfectly symmetrical, their teeth aren't perfectly straight. Unlike the Karians they have no animal traits. Unlike the Mechified they are not augmented in any way. They are plain, ordinary, people. They tend toward oriental in appearance, and fashion. Indeed, they wear ancient looking kimono's and ceremonial garments to indicate their sacred position - most of which is faded, torn and in poor repair. They give off an aire of faded glory.
Example Clans: Amethyst Swan, Crystal Nightingale, Jade Falcon, Opal Wren, Ruby Hawk
Example Family Names: Chinen, Higa, Hon’inbo, Inoue, Ishikawa, Kato, Kindaichi, Mukainakano, Nakata, Sakonju, Shimabukuro, Shoji
Example Attributes: Aura of Inspiration, Combat Technique, Companion, Extra Actions, Extra Defenses, Features (Appearance), Item, Organizational Ties
Example Skills: Cooking, Cultural Arts, Gaming, Intimidation, Linguistics, Performing Arts, Piloting, Seduction, Visual Arts, Writing
Allskin Technology & Equipment
As the old ways of the Cheldrun disintegrated and the unity of the species was shattered with their arrival on Karia the one thing which the Allskins managed to maintain as their exclusive privilege was access to the ancient technologies of the First Minds. From Mechas to high powered rifles to special military binoculars, the wonders of the old Cheldrun society are many. Only genetic structures matching the loyal families of Allskin will activate the equipment. The secret of cracking this security measure has been extremely well guarded and no Allskin would betray it for fear their people would lose their distinctiveness.
Example Rifle: The following rifle is a typical example of Allskin technology. These rifles are far superior to many other weapons and only usable by someone with Allskin DNA. Their range is exceptional (10km) and they pierce most armor, but they require reloading between each shot and it takes time to set up a shot. They are not therefore, useful in close combat. This rifle was created with the ‘Item’ attribute, level 2, costing 4 Character Points.
Allskin High Powered Rifle (Tenebrous 10k):
Weapon: 4 Variables: Accurate, Range 4, Penetrating 2, Only Allskin, Activation 2, Ammo 3 (1 shot),
Example Mecha: Though the other inherited possessions of the Allskin are remarkable, none of them compare to the Mecha. These powerful machines are 10-15’ tall humanoid battle-suits, which a pilot can enter and direct with devastating effect. They often include arrays of weapons and heavy armor. The pilot usually stands upright in a special compartment in the chest of the Mecha with arms and legs inserted into special sleeves so that their movements control the Mecha. As usual a genetic identity scan prevents anyone who is not an Allskin from piloting one of these machines. Allskins like to design them to look like ornate and terrifying warriors, often utilizing enormous melee weapons in duels as a strange carryover of ancient honor systems. One common remarkable feature of these Mecha is that they can be summoned using special talismans, meaning Mecha pilots can travel from place to place apparently unarmed, but beware…
The Mecha below is an 86 character point item.
Doragon
Doragon is stored as light in Kenji’s “Key Bracers” and can be summoned out.
Alternate Form: Incorporeal level 3 27CP
Insubstantial 5 (passes through water/paper/flesh/wood/rock)
Activation -4 (perform Kata for 1 full minute to summon)
Deplete -3 (30 energy – ONLY to summon, not to return)
Equipment -1 (Key Bracers)
Object -4 (only affects the mecha, not the pilot)
Armor level 20 (Armor Rating:40) 40CP
Jumping level 2 (10x normal distance) 4CP
Land Speed level 4 (60kph) 8CP
Melee Attack (sword) level 3 9CP
Melee Defense (sword) level 3 9CP
Ranged Attack (energy bow) level 2 6CP
Superstrength level 4 (up to 8 tonnes) 32CP
Weapon (Giant Runic Sword) level 7 14CP
Muscle (adds +4 to damage multiplier for superstrength)
Hands (requires 2 hands to use)
Weapon (Energy Bow) level 10 30CP
Penetrating 10 (ignore 30 Armor)
Hands (requires 2 hands to use)
Range 4 (10km)
Activation -2 (only to summon, not per shot)
Deplete -1 (10 energy per shot)
Awkward Size 1 (3m, 1200kg) -4CP
| Allskin attitudes towards…. | |
| Cheldrun | We are the people of the stars; mighty emperors once who have been reduced to this life in exile on a backwater planet by a horrible tragedy… |
| Allskins | Our cultural legacy is in a sad state, but it’s all we have… |
| Biomade | Honor and Respect cannot be developed in a lab… |
| Mechified | Hearty and Noble workers if a bit rough around the edges… |
| Karians | The people of this planet are strange and primitive, but they show signs of worth. We should treat them cautiously with respect… |
| Anakarix | Some of these talking lizards are very wise if you can get over their appearance… |
| Gogajin | Drunken fools, obsessed with machismo. Gogajin are generally too uncouth to bother talking to… |
| Jevumm | Violent and uncontrollable we must consider the tiger-folk unfit for participation in society… |
| Prill | Somehow these mysterious people are the most like the Cheldrun and yet the most different as well… |
| Vorax | A Vorax? I haven’t seen one in years. They’re either ridiculously reclusive or dead… |
| Zipsum | The friendliest of Karians and probably the most trustworthy, the Zipsum make good servants and messengers… |
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